Survivors
by Rivan Warrioress
Summary: Phil Coulson heads out on a mission with his team on the bus, not knowing that SHIELD was about to fall, leaving his family vulnerable and open to attack. Is he going to loose them just like he lost thier mother? Sequel to Parenthood, so read that first.
1. Chapter 1

Phil kissed the top of Skye's head before he set her down beside her siblings, picking up his bag instead.

"Will you be back soon, daddy?" Skye asked with a smile, and Phil responded with a smile of his own, tweaking his youngest daughter's nose.

"I'll be back in fourteen days, do you know how long that is?"

"This many, with four of Jemma's fingers, but not her thumb," Sky replied, holding up both hands, fingers splayed apart. Jemma giggled and put up her hand alongside her sister's, thumb tucked against her hand.

"That's it," Phil grinned, tugging gently on one of Jemma's plaits as he rose to his feet. He'd already kissed goodbye to his older children, Skye liked having the last kiss before he left.

"Be good and do what Mrs. May asks you to do."

"Yes daddy" Jemma and Skye chorused.

"Sure thing, dad," Clint nodded.

"I'll miss you dad," Leo chimed in.

"I'll miss you too, now I better go, before Uncle Nick get's cross with me."

With that Phil waved and headed out the front door of his house, putting his bag in the back seat of Lola, and getting into the driver's seat. He glanced back at the house, and he could see his children, pressed against the glass, waving. Phil waved back before he started the car and backed out of the driveway, before he drove away from his house.

It wasn't the same house that he and Audrey had lived in, the safety of that house had been compromised the moment that Agent Collins accessed Phil's personal file. Who knew which criminal scumbags or enemies of Phil he told. Still, it was similar, a normal looking two story house in a middle sized town, with a white picket fence and white shutters on the windows. The children were happy enough in their new town and their new house, though, and that was all Phil cared about. Nobody within SHIELD but Nick Fury, Maria Hill, Melinda May and Jasper Sitwell knew Phil's address, and it wasn't kept on record anywhere. Phil's family were, in essence, completely off the grid

Four years had passed since the day that Collins had put his plan to destroy Phil into action, and their location wasn't the only thing to had changed. No matter how old they were at the start of those four years, children grew a lot during the span of four years.

Skye was now a four year old, bright, inquisitive, determined and cheeky. Physically, Phil and Audrey's youngest child was a mixture of both of them, with Phil's brown hair, and Audrey's brown eyes. She had Audrey's nose and chin and smile, but the rest of her features where similar to Phil's own, or to Phil's mother. Skye was the only one of Phil's children that could be considered a social butterfly, outgoing and confident with the other children at the day care centre she attended three days a week, and very much looking forward to starting going to school in autumn. Phil knew that Skye wouldn't have any trouble adjusting to being at school. She was clever and a quick thinker and she loved using technology, often playing happily with Mrs. May's laptop or Stark pad for hours.

Jemma was quieter and less social than her sister, but she made up for it in brains. At the age of five, Phil's oldest daughter was already reading confidently, tucking herself in a quiet corner and reading a story to herself contentedly.

Of the children, Jemma was still the one that physically resembled Audrey the most, except her hair was more like Phikl's own, except longer. Despite losing her mother at such a young age Jemma was very cheerful, and was almost always smiling, with the same happy disposition that she'd had as a baby.

Wherever Jemma was, Leo wasn't far away. Despite Leo being two years older than Jemma, the pair were seldom apart, preferring the company of each other over the friendship of children their own age. Leo especially had trouble making friends, since he had little in common with them in terms of interests. Leo loved science and building things, and more than once Phil had contemplated the idea of introducing Leo to Tony Stark. Leo loved Iron Man, and he had a poster of his favourite hero pinned up on his bedroom wall. Phil had been rather surprised when he'd gotten home from a mission to find it. Mrs. May had brought it for Leo as a reward for a good report card (the others had all gotten a present as well), and there was a small part of him that had been disappointed that Leo hadn't fallen in love with Captain America like Phil had when he'd been his youngest son's age.

Leo was mere weeks away from his eighth birthday, and Phil couldn't believe how time had flown by. Physically, it was Leo that had changed the most in the past four years, not so much in terms of growth, but in terms of appearance. Leo, who had once looked like mini Clint, now looked more like his mother in his face, especially when you put it with his blonde hair and his curls and his smile, which had been just like Audrey's from close to the beginning, made the resemblance even more obvious. Leo didn't resemble his mother in his face as much as Jemma did, his face was still a little too thin for Audrey's rosey cheeks, but it was apparent that Leo's genes had decided late to favour his mother after all, with her gentle features to match her gentle nature.

In terms of personality, Leo was the one to most reflect Audrey, with his forgiving nature and his hatred of violence and conflict, although Phil knew that Leo had struggled in the aftermath of loosing Audrey. It had taken almost two years for Leo to adjust to the changes in his family dynamic, with the change in location, and the introduction of Mrs. May as the one who looked after the children while Phil was away on missions, instead of their mother. To this day Leo hated change, and Phil and Mrs. May always made sure that the children, and Leo in particular, were well warned whenever their would be a change in their routine.

The one of Phil and Audrey's children who had changed the most in the aftermath of Audrey's death was Clint. Active and adventurous, Clint was still a daredevil with a great fondness for heights, but now Clint was borderline obsessive with protecting his younger siblings, forgoing playing with his own classmates and instead watching over Leo and Jemma as they played, usually from the branches of the tree in the school yard they liked playing under, like a bird of prey watching over her chicks.

Clint didn't trust anyone outside of Phil, Nick, his siblings, and as of the previous year, Mrs. May. He didn't like dealing with emotions, and tended to bottle things up inside until he couldn't cope anymore and broke down. There was, however, a coping mechanism that Clint enjoyed. It was Nick who had suggested it, the summer after Audrey's death. A local summer camp was running day programs with a circus theme, run by real circus performers and the camp co-ordinators and councillors. Clint had always loved Audrey's stories about her days in the circus, and at that point Clint hadn't smiled or laughed once since Audrey's funeral, so Phil had signed him up. It had been a good move. The child that Clint had once been before his mother's death started to come back after his first week of the program, some of the light coming back into his eyes. The people running the camp had all told Phil how talented Clint was. By the end of the summer Clint was doing basic tricks on a trapeze, walking the tightrope, and doing some of the same things that his mother had once earned her living doing. And he was smiling the whole time he was doing it.

When he was told that the people who were running the summer camp were also running after school programs during the school term, Phil hadn't thought twice about enrolling Clint. Once a week Clint headed off to Circus Skills and continued to build up the skills he'd started learning that first summer.

It wasn't long after Clint first started going that he picked up a bow for the first time. The kids had been learning about targets, and they'd been taking turns shooting with the bow and arrow. Clint had fallen in love with archery, and, it seemed, archery had fallen in love with him. Clint rarely missed, and when he did it wasn't by much. Even Nick Fury's jaw had hung open in amazement the first time he saw Clint shoot. At the tender age of seven Clint was being heralded as one of the best marksmen to ever walk the earth by the director of SHIELD, and Phil hadn't known if he was proud or terrified by the notion.

Clint was eleven now, small for his age, and still with his dark blonde hair that tended to stick out messily, like Phil's had when he was a child. Clint's face, however, became more and more like Phil's own with each day, and it wasn't uncommon to see Phil's own serious expression on Clint's face when he was doing his homework or deep in thought.

Clint, Leo, Jemma and Skye were all very different, but Phil was very proud of how they'd all turned out, and he hoped that Audrey was too.

He was pretty sure she would be though.


	2. Chapter 2

Clint had just finished his homework for the night when he heard the phone ringing, and his heart skipped in his chest as he recognized the ringtone. It was the ringtone set for when Uncle Nick was calling the household, but Uncle Nick rarely called when Clint's dad was away on a mission. In fact, it was only when, for some reason, Clint's dad was going to take longer on his mission than wasp planned, or if his dad had gotten hurt, like he had that time that the aliens had invaded New York. Clint shuddered as he remembered the week spent not knowing if his dad was going to make it, and Clint had cried when his father had finally opened his eyes again.

That time, Clint had been the only one allowed to go and visit his dad at the hospital SHIELD had put him in, the others being too young to go and visit, but if their dad was hurt again, Clint didn't want to be on his own again. Uncle Nick had stayed as much as possible, but he was a busy man, and Clint hadn't wanted the man to get in trouble for noting doing his job because Clint wanted a babysitter.

Listening, Clint heard Mrs. May pick up the phone, her thickly accented voice answering the phone quietly. Clint put his homework away in his school bag and trotted to the kitchen. Leo was drying the dishes from dinner, and Clint could hear Jemma and Skye padding down the stairs to find out what was going on.

One look at Mrs. May's face had Clint wondering if his dad was dead, judging from her pale complexion and the white knuckled grip on the phone. He felt his heart clench. Leo's birthday was only a few weeks away. It wouldn't be fair if their dad couldn't be there.

Of course, if their dad was dead, then none of them would have a birthday with him ever again, and Clint felt his whole chest tighten at the thought.

Mrs. May said goodbye, having spoken Chinese for the entirety of the conversation. Clint knew conversational Chinese, thanks to Mrs. May, but she'd been speaking far too fast for him to be able to understand.

"What's going on?" Leo asked, putting the dish towel down. Mrs. May, however, was already moving, heading for the cupboard under the stairs and pulling open the panel that concealed the secret cupboard where the emergency gear was hidden. Clint automatically began to help, remembering vividly the instructions his father had given him should something happen.

Black backpacks were pulled out of their places, and the younger children all stripped off and put the black clothes they were handed on. Clint was already wearing dark jeans, so he just stripped of his jacket and undershirt and put black ones on. Black, because then, if they had to hide, they'd blend in better with the dark.

Mrs. May always wore dark clothes, so she already was prepared for their evacuation.

"SHIELD has been compromised, by Hydra. Your father and Director Fury are trying to get the bases freed, but it appears the infiltration runs deep...too deep. Your existence and location has been compromised, and neither your father, nor Director Fury are close enough to be able to evacuate you, and they cannot trust anyone from within SHIELD to ensure your safety." She told them briskly.

"SHIELD is compromised...by Hydra?" Leo gasped. Clint swallowed, unable to fathom the prospect of Hydra with the sort of technology SHIELD had access to. He'd only heard stories, and they probably only brushed the surface of what SHIELD could do. They had a missile that would level Manhattan, for crying out loud.

"We need to go," Mrs. May instructed, "Go, get your go bags, run."

As one, Clint and his siblings turned and bolted up the stairs, Clint flung himself into his room, collecting the black backpack from it's place in the bottom of his wardrobe. He only hesitated for a moment before he reached out and took the bow, a birthday present for his eleventh birthday, along with his quiver of real arrows, with pointed ends, out from the top of his wardrobe. He could hear Mrs. May helping his sisters, so he raced into Leo's room.

"Are you almost ready?" Clint asked.

"Yes, just one more thing," Leo nodded, tucking his toy monkey into the top of the backpack and zipping it closed. Clint thought belatedly of his favourite stuffed toys, his wolf and his hawk. They wouldn't fit in his bag, and he would already have to deal with carrying his bow and quiver.

"Let's go," Clint said, leading Leo from his bedroom and down the stairs. Mrs. May raced down the stairs at a speed that no lady her age should be capable of without falling, Skye in her arms, and both of the girls bag's slung on her back, Jemma at her heels, wide eyes and fearful.

"Get to the car, go," Mrs. May ordered, and Clint threw the door open, about to leap out into the night, when he heard the sound of the heavy trucks coming up the road. He snagged the back of Leo's jacket as his younger brother went to run past him and glanced back at Mrs. May, who set Skye down.

"Close the door, Clint, and get back."

Clint pushed the door closed, knowing that the trucks where still a fair way away the wind was blowing the noise in their direction, but speed was important. The trucks might have been completely normal, but it was late, the sun having gone down, and nobody in their neighbourhood had a car that sounded like that.

Mrs. May dropped the bags she was carrying, and put the car keys back in her pocket.

"Clint, I want you to head to the rendezvous point, alright? Do not open the door for anyone once you get there unless they do the doorknock, alright?"

Clint nodded going into autopilot. The rendezvous point was a safe house that only Nick Fury, Mrs. May and his dad knew about, so it should be safe.

"What about you?" Leo frowned, "won't you be there?"

Mrs. May sighed and pulled her guns from their holsters, "I'll keep them off your tails, little monkey, now quick, off you go, before they get any closer."

Clint grabbed the bags that Mrs. May had dropped and tossed them at Leo and Jemma, who wordlessly shouldered them, as Clint scooped up Skye and headed for the back door. He undid the latch and slipped out into the night, pushing the door closed once Leo and Jemma were outside. He set Skye down, gripping her hand tightly in his own as they crossed the yard, the warm evening air carrying just a hint of summer with it.

The reason why Clint's father chose this house in particular had little to do with the size of the neighbourhood, or the local schools, but primarily with the heavily wooded preservation that the house backed onto. Miles and miles of heavily wooded land to get lost and hide yourself in. This was the kind of situation the house was brought for, and Clint knew how to use the preservation to his advantage. He undid the latch holding the gate that led out into the preservation shut, and once again let his siblings out, before he closed the gate, keenly aware of the sound of the trucks getting closer.

"Let's go," he said, tightening his grip on Skye's hand, before they began to run through the trees.

Clint only increased their speed when he heard gunshots, and lots of them, coming from the house. Jemma sobbed as they ran, but none of them dared say anything, all of them trying to see in the dim to avoid tripping over tree roots or running into an actual tree. They all knew that they were running from trained agents, grownups with more athletic ability and far longer legs than any of the Coulson children could hope to achieve for at least another five years, if not longer.

Sure enough, it was only ten minutes or so when Clint glanced over his shoulder and saw the beams of torchlight scanning through the trees as men and women clad in black and toting large guns searched the woods for Clint and his siblings.

Already tired, Clint pushed onwards, pulling his younger siblings along. There was a thicket not too far from her that would provide good shelter until the Hydra agents had passed by, and Clint headed for it, wishing he had spent more time in the woods when it was dark, the dim light making it much harder to see and navigate his way through the woods.

The beams of light from the torches had almost caught up to them by the time they crested over the hill that helped conceal the thicket, and Clint didn't hesitate in pushing his siblings in front of them as they slid down the steep hill and crawled into the thicket. Clint though, didn't join them, instead standing on the ridge, carefully getting his bow out and stringing it quickly with his bowstring, before he pulled an arrow from his quiver, turning back the way he came as he notched the arrow to his bow and drew the bowstring back as far as he could with his right hand.

There were four beams of light that penetrated the woods from the torches; the lights searching through the darkness. Clint knew that he wouldn't be able to hit them all before someone realised where he was and shot back at him, and the very idea of shooting at someone send fear shooting up Clint's spine.

It wasn't until a beam of light passed over his legs, before darting back, that Clint realised the mistake he made, and the jumped back, but not before he heard the crack of the gun going off. Clint stumbled and fell, tumbling down the same hillside that his siblings had slid down, losing all of the air in his lungs as he landed heavily on his stomach. Quickly he scrambled to his feet and crawled to the protective thicket, crawling in under the thick intertwined branches.

It was only when he stopped moving, sucking in air as if he had just run a marathon, that Clint realised that, in his surprise at the gun going off, he'd fired off the arrow. There was a part of him that was disappointed in the way he'd wasted an arrow, but at the same time he wasn't going to waste time trying to look for it.

There were other things he needed to worry about, like the welfare of his younger siblings, who were cuddled together in the thicket beside him, and the pain that was now making itself known in his right arm. Clint took his bow in his right and carefully touched where the pain was the worse, wincing and almost crying out at the burning pain applying pressure to the wound caused. Swallowing, Clint looked down at his right arm, pulling at his torn sleeve. The gash beneath the tear was bleeding badly, and Clint realised that he'd been shot in the arm by the hydra agent that had spotted him.

Frowning, Clint carefully pulled the closest bag towards him and pulled out the little first aid kit tucked into the front pocket of each of their bags, and getting out some gauze. He put a square of gauze on the wound, before he pressed down on it, biting his lip to prevent crying out, tears gathering in his eyes from the pain.

Leo and Jemma were watching him fearfully, and Skye was clinging fearfully to Leo's shirt. They could all see the lights that were now being pointed down, around the thicket as the Hydra agents searched for them.

Clint inched towards his siblings on his knees, and Jemma reached out, applying pressure on the gauze square as she tried to help. Clint stayed still as Jemma shakily fished a bandage out of the little first aid kit and began wrapping it tightly around his arm, until Clint quickly secured it with the metal clip he'd found in the first aid kit, giving his sister a reassuring smile.

The four of them fell silent, huddled together, their faces focused downwards so that their pale faces wouldn't be visible if somehow the torchlight did penetrate the ticket. Clint and Leo had their hoods up and over their blonde hair for the same reason. The lights they could see disappeared from their limited line of sight, but none of them dared move or say anything. Five minutes passed, and then ten. Leo shifted a little, trying to get into a more comfortable position, which had been made much more difficult by the fact that Skye had fallen asleep on him.

"Are they gone, it's really quiet out there?" He asked. Clint shrugged, wincing as the movement sent pain flaring down his arm and up into his shoulder.

"I'll go check, stay here," Clint eventually whispered, gently pushing Jemma towards Leo so they he could wriggle out of the thicket, avoiding putting any weight on his injured arm as he glanced around. It was darker now, the sky above them clear and dotted with stars, with only a sliver of the silver moon visible. Clint listened but the woods were silent except for the rustling of leaves as the wind blew through the trees. An owl hooted overhead, and Clint slowly and tentatively began to climb back up the slope he had fallen down, wincing as the activity made his arm throb in pain.

At the top of the hill, Clint looked around, but he couldn't see any lights. The woods were deserted, empty except for the trees, the animals that lived there, and Clint and his siblings.

Reflexively, Clint swallowed the panic that was forming a lump in his throat, making it difficult to breathe. They were alone, their father and Uncle Nick were far away, and Mrs. May was quite possibly dead. Nobody else knew where they were, and the only ones who cared wanted them dead.

Clint let a tear roll down his cheek as he realised how dire their situation was. It was his job, as the eldest, to lead his siblings to the rendezvous point and to keep them alive until they were rescued from there, no matter how long it took.

Of course, it was possible that both their father and Uncle Nick were dead. Clint knew that nobody was impossible to kill, not even his dad, and that if they were both killed Clint and his siblings would be alone in the world, with nobody they could trust.

Realistically though, Clink knew that staying in one spot wasn't going to achieve anything, so he sighed, letting out a huff of air, before he carefully made his way back down the hill, and crawled back into the thicket. Jemma had woken Skye back up, and Leo was packing the first aid kit back away in the bag it had come from.

"It's all clear, we need to go," Clint told his siblings, picking up his bow and slinging it over his back, along with his emergency bag. Leo, Jemma and Skye put their own bags on, although Clint could see how scared they were. He didn't blame them; if he wasn't the one in charge then he would be just as scared as they were. As it was though, he had to take the lead, and Clint refused to let himself be scared. Their dad was in these situations all the time, and Clint was certain that he never got scared.

One after another they crawled out of the thicket, Leo taking Skye's hand in his own, while Clint took Jemma's. Once again they started moving through the trees, this time walking instead of running, Clint's senses on high alert as he constantly scanned his surroundings with his keen eyes, trying to spot anything that was a potential risk to his sibling's welfare. They changed direction often, their path zigging and zagging through the preservation, doubling back at one point to confuse anyone who was following their trail, and Clint worried that they would end up getting lost. His arm was hurting, a deep, endless throbbing pain that made his eyes glaze of with tears he didn't dare let fall, knowing that if he started to cry he wouldn't be able to stop. If his arm was jostled, the pain got a lot worse, the pain becoming more intense, more of a burning, stabbing pain, rather that the deep throbbing that it would normally be making him feel. Clint hoped that the injury had stopped bleeding to the point of leaving a blood trail, but he didn't dare check, Knowing that if they stopped, he and his siblings might not be able to get going again.

Still, despite his injury Clint knew that they had better chances of surviving lost in the preservation than they did at the hands of the Hydra Agents that were, undoubtedly, still swarming their house. It was a warm night, and the sky was free of clouds. The breeze was warm and pleasant, not too windy, but still blowing fresh air onto their faces, thick with the familiar scent of the woods.

Clint had no option but to lead his siblings onwards, praying to a God he hadn't believed in since his mother's death four years before, that they were heading in the right direction.


	3. Chapter 3

Dawn breaking over the preservation found Phil Coulson's three eldest children stumbling out from the trees, Skye clinging to Clint's back, with Leo carrying his older brother's bag, as well as his bow and quiver of arrows. Jemma's legs shook beneath her with every trembling step she took, and Leo could barely lift his feet from the ground to take another stride.

Leading his younger siblings, Clint focused on breathing in deep breaths of air, trying to stop himself from giving into the way his entire body ached, screaming at him to rest. He couldn't listen to his body, though, they were so close to their destination.

As it turned out, Clint hadn't been as accurate in his navigation skills as he'd hoped. They reached the track they'd been aiming for, but were a couple of miles out from where Clint had planned on intersecting the track.

Taking a risk, they'd travelled back along the track until they'd reached the marker that their father had put up for this very purpose, the tree with the purple ribbon tied securely to its branches, with a couple of Clint's old plastic soldiers shallowly buried at the base of it. Using the stars, like he'd been taught by Uncle Nick, Clint had found north, and they'd walked for another few miles, the sun rising over the hills in the east, slowly lightening the darkness the four children had been stumbling through for the whole night.

They'd been walking for another two miles when Clint stopped, the logging track coming into view. It was the same logging track they would have used if they'd had the time for Mrs. May to drive them to the rendezvous pint, and it meant that they weren't far from their destination.

The sight of the logging track urged the weary children on, as they walked as fast as their exhausted bodies could, Clint still carrying Skye, who was dozing with her head resting on his shoulder.

Finally the rendezvous point came into view, an isolated wooden cabin with a garage attached to it. Clint knew, another mile or two to the north, there was a cleared area large enough to land a helicopter to allow for extractions, if needed. The cabin was small, but it would provide adequate shelter while Clint and his siblings waited for news and to be rescued. They weren't out of danger yet, but Clint felt himself relax marginally. At least now his siblings would be able to rest their tired legs.

Clint stumbled his way towards the cabin, using the newly risen sun's light to see if there was any obvious signs of the ground being disturbed, like if a truck had been here recently, but the dirt was smooth except for the imprints made by the feet of Clint and his siblings. As Clint had his hands full making sure Skye didn't slip off his back in her sleep, Leo set Clint's bag down on the front porch of the cabin, zipping open a side compartment and fishing out the key on a purple string, carefully unlocking the door and pushing it open. For his older brother and younger sister, before he grabbed Clint's bag and slipped through the door himself, pushing it closed behind him.

"Lock the door, Leo," Clint reminded his brother in a soft voice, and Leo flicked the lock, before he hit the button that activated the cabin's more extensive security functions.

"Good job," Clint nodded in encouragement, before Jemma gently poked Skye awake and helped ease her younger sister of her eldest brother's back. Clint nearly staggered and fell as Skye's weight disappeared from his back, his entire body aching as his muscles screamed in pain.

"We should have something to eat, and then we'll sleep. We should be safe here, for now," Leo suggested. Clint hesitated before nodding as Jemma pulled out the containers in their backpacks that held some healthy snacks. None of them felt up to even pouring out some cereal, so they ate the dried fruit and the grain bars in silence, before they all hooked out the bedding that was stored in one of the cupboards, spreading it out on the floor and curling up on it. Leo, Jemma and Skye fell asleep quickly, but Clint lay awake, unable to let himself drift of while his siblings were vulnerable. He knew he wouldn't be able to rest, not fully, until they were reunited with their dad or with Uncle Nick.

Leaving his sleeping siblings on the floor, Clint sat on the couch, his legs drawn up to his chest, his chin resting on his knees as he gazed at the curtains that he didn't dare open, his ears straining for even the slightest indication that something was amiss, but the cabin was quiet and still, save for the ticking of the old clock, and the gentle breathing of Leo, Jemma and Skye as they slept on the floor, clinging onto one another.

The morning passed, with Clint's body fighting the urge to sleep. Occasionally he'd lose the battle, drifting off for a few short minutes before he woke up again, startling as he began to fall from his perch on the couch. Clint let his siblings sleep, knowing how exhausted they were. He didn't know how far it was that they had actually walked, but he knew that, as the crow flies, his home was close enough to seven and a half miles from the cabin in the woods. He and his siblings had walked much further than that in the ten hours that had passed between their escape into the woods, and their arrival at the cabin.

Clint got up; knowing that if he stayed where he was he wouldn't be able to fall back asleep again. He walked around the main room of the cabin, curiously checking out what was in the cupboards and on the shelves. There was enough food to last them for awhile, at least a week, and longer if they rationed it, and Mrs. May had taught Clint basic cooking skills. He could cook pasta and rice, and he could warm up some canned soup. He could make packet mashed potato and packet mac and cheese. There was beef jerky and canned tuna in one of the cupboards, so they would be able to eat some meat as well. It wouldn't be as good as Mrs. May's delicious cooking, but it would be enough to survive off until they were rescued or Clint came up with a better plan. There was also board games and decks of cards and spare clothing that looked to be about the right size for each of the children, even though they all had some clothing in their emergency bags, but Clint knew it would be useful if they were stuck at the cabin for a longer period of time. He also found a large, SHIELD issue, field first aid kit, with enough provisions in it to ensure that, if they needed to, and if they had someone who knew how to do it, they could do minor surgery.

It was approaching two o'clock in the afternoon when Clint decided that it was time to wake up his siblings, even if it was only for a little bit. He gently woke up his siblings, knowing that they would be very hungry, sending them one by one into the bathroom to do what they needed to do and to wash up, while he prepared their lunch. He made Mac and cheese, reading through the instructions three times to make sure he was doing it right, and served it up into four large bowls, before handing the bowls out to his siblings. They all ate hungrily, having not eaten anything substantial in over eighteen hours. Once the Mac and cheese was gone Leo brought out some dried fruit from his bag and they finished off their meal with the dried fruit.

Clint washed the dishes, with the others drying them off, before they took turns having a bath, changing into clean clothes. Once they were clean, and their stomach's pleasantly full, Skye fell back asleep, with Leo sitting beside her on the mattresses. Clint sat on the couch, the first aid kit beside him as he gingerly examined his gunshot wound from last night. Jemma sat on the arm rest, biting her lip as she watched.

"Is it okay?" Leo asked quietly, not wanting to wake up Skye. Clint tilted his head to the side.

'I don't know," he admitted, "It hurts though, and even though I took the bandage off in the bath I should probably clean it with something."

"There's cleaning things in here," Jemma offered, looking in the first aid kit, holding up a bottle and some clean swabs. Clint took the bottle and examined it, recognizing the same brand of peroxide that they had at home.

"I'll do it, if you want," Jemma offered, seeing the hesitation on Clint's face. Clint bit his lip and nodded.

"Leo, you're going to have to hold onto my arm and keep it still." He instructed, removing the childproof lid on the peroxide bottle and passing it to Jemma who carefully dampened the sterilized swabs she found in the first aid kit, the same way Mrs. May did when she had to clean up any of the children when they were injured.

"Ready?" Jemma asked, and Clint and Leo both nodded, Clint stuffing a pillow in his mouth to stifle the noise if he yelled, and Leo tightening his grip on Clint's injured arm, holding him at both the elbow and the wrist.

Jemma bit her lip, before she applied the peroxide soaked cloth to Clint's arm, causing the older boy to jerk reflexively, although he didn't make a noise.

"I'm sorry," Jemma whispered, cleaning away the dried blood that hadn't come off the bath, as well as passing the swab gently over the wound itself.

"It's okay, you're doing great, Jem," Clint told her through the cushion, surprised at how careful his little sister was being. He'd never realised before how much attention Jemma must have paid whenever she was watching Mrs. May when she was administering first aid, because Jemma was imitating what Mrs. May did right down to way she was soothingly rubbing Clint's skin with the hand that wasn't holding the swab. The way Jemma's tongue was poking out in concentration, her brow furrowed seriously, on the other hand, was a very Jemma like expression.

"Okay, I think that's it," Jemma said after cleaning the wound as thoroughly as she could. Clint's arm was screaming in pain from the peroxide that had got into the wound, and some of the antiseptic had run down Clint's arm and trickled onto Leo's hand, but it didn't matter. The bullet wound was lightly bleeding, though, so Clint said nothing as Jemma got a sterile gauze pad and unwrapped it, placing it onto the wound, before she bandaged around it tightly to holding the gauze in place.

"Very good, Doctor Jemma," Clint said, trying to lighten the tone in the room, "So, will the patient live?"

Instead of laughing, or even smiling, Jemma's eyes filled with tears, and she threw herself at Clint's chest, gripping onto him tightly. Clint instinctively wrapped his arms around Jemma, holding his little sister in a tight hug.

"I hope so, Clint. I'm scared. I don't know what we'd do if you died," Jemma sobbed, her shoulder's shaking beneath Clint's hands. Clint closed his eyes and pressed a kiss to the top of Jemma's head.

Ever since the car crash that killed their mother Clint had been especially close to Jemma. Their dad had been busy with newborn Skye, and trying to cope with his own grief, and Leo hadn't been old enough to be able to do much for his seventeen month old sister, so it had fallen to Clint to look after Jemma, feeding her, playing with her, putting her to bed and staying with her until she fell asleep. Focusing on Jemma became Clint's way of not thinking about what had happened, and he threw himself into looking after his little sister. Now he fell back into the familiar role, comforting Jemma as she clung to him, just like she had back then after a nightmare or when she was upset about something.

Looking over Jemma's head, Clint caught Leo's gaze, taking in the way his brother, his hair sticking up messily, was biting his lip anxiously, a sign that Leo was fighting back tears himself. Clint had looked after Leo as well in the aftermath of the car accident. They'd both slept in Leo's bed, and Leo had clung to Clint after he woke up from nightmares. It had been Clint who had helped Leo get ready every morning, helping him get dressed, stripping the bed and putting everything in the washing machine if Leo had wet the bed (which had happened often in the first month after the accident), and generally just being there for Leo when it all got too much for him.

Clint stretched out his uninjured arm in invitation to his little brother, and Leo broke, his eyes filling with tears as he climbed closer to Clint and Jemma so Clint could put his uninjured arm around both of them as the huddled against his chest, with Jemma safely trapped in between her two brothers.

"It'll be okay, dad will find us," Leo told his siblings confidently, "He's never let us down before, he'll be here soon."


	4. Chapter 4

The shared living area of the Avengers tower was silent except for the news report that was on the large TV that took up most of one wall. Watching the TV was Tony Stark, Bruce Banner and Steve Rogers, none of them saying anything as they watched footage of the SHIELD Helicarriers crashing down into their watery grave.

"It's over," Tony commented, "SHIELD is gone."

"And instead there is Hydra. I know I didn't agree with a lot of what SHIELD has done, but they're better than Hydra." Bruce added. Steve was silent, watching the news report intently. Tony frowned and Steve's silence.

"Have either of you guys heard from anyone...Agent?...Fury?...Hill?"

"When she called half an hour ago to tell me that she was going to go underground for a few weeks before heading back here, Agent Romanoff told me she'd seen Hill since...since everything happened." Steve said in a defeated tone, "She didn't mention Agent Coulson or Director Fury."

The three avengers were silent, each of them thinking about their handler. They'd all been furious when they found out, a couple of weeks after the fact, that Phil had survived his encounter with Loki, but the relief they'd felt when they'd laid eyes on Coulson again had diminished their anger considerably. Now they once again didn't know if their handler was alive or not, and as time passed without any word reaching them, their anxiety levels began to rise. Bruce and Tony especially had been concerned, since they had spent hours following learning of the situation within Shield not knowing if Steve and Natasha were still alive, let alone Phil, Fury and Maria Hill.

Then Steve had shown up, dressed in ratty civilian clothes and a cap, obviously exhausted, but carrying the news that Natasha was still alive. Tony and Bruce had wordlessly got Steve comfortable, before they began gently probing for details, showing him the news reports that were still being aired on every station.

"I can't believe they never realised what was happening, that HYDRA had that much of a footing in SHIELD that they were able to do this," Tony shook his head, "Fury will be impossible to work with now, he didn't trust anyone before, but now..."

"Hydra agents are trained to be stealthy," Steve pointed out quietly, "Fury would never have expected SHIELD to be infiltrated so much. No one would have."

The three Avengers once again fell into silence, all three of them thinking of the friends and acquaintances they had within SHIELD, wondering how many of them were now dead, or had actually been Hydra all along. For all of them, the news that Jasper Sitwell, one of Coulson's closest friends and colleagues, was actually in Hydra had been especially surprising. They'd all met Sitwell before, and found him to be generally likable, easy-going and charismatic, but still professional. He'd fooled them all, and now Hydra had taken all of Shields main bases, and would shortly have the minor bases as well.

The air was thick with tension and gloom when Jarvis' disembodied accented voice broke the silence after a lengthy period of no-one, not even Tony, talking.

"Excuse me, sir," Jarvis excused himself for breaking the silence, "but you have an incoming call from a individual who claims to be Director Fury."

"What?" Steve exclaimed.

"Run voice recognition software," Tony instructed as He, Bruce and Steve all looked at one another in surprise, all of them having been fairly certain that the Director of SHILED was dead.

"Voice recognition software determines that there is a ninety nine percent chance that the person speaking is Director Fury, taking into account sentence structure, voice markers, word use, accent and tone. It appears that it is a secure line, and I have not yet been able to pinpoint the location of Director Fury, if he is the person making this call."

"Put him through, Jarvis," Tony instructed after a brief hesitation, fishing his phone out of his pocket and holding it in his hand as it began to ring. He hit the answer button and turned on the loudspeaker function.

"Hello?"

"Stark, that better be fucking you?"

"Director Fury, I was beginning to think I was never going to hear your cheerful voice again," Tony told the man on the other side of the phone call. Fury swore at him.

"Don't fuck around, Tony. This is serious. I have a mission for you and the Avengers. How many of them are with you?"

"There's three of us here, Banner, Rogers and me." Tony said, although he didn't elaborate where exactly here was.

"Good. Cap, how's your knowledge of morse code?"

"Good...although I don't think anyone used it anymore." Steve replied.

"You're going to need it for this mission. Now, here's what I want you to do..."

AVENGERS

Steve carefully set Tony's personal helicopter down onto the ground in the clearing, beginning the process of shutting down the aircraft. Tony and Bruce unstrapped themselves from their seats, and Tony quickly suited up into his newest Iron Man suit. Steve was already wearing his uniform, although it wasn't the one he usually wore, but instead the one he had kept, as a precaution, at the Avengers Tower. Once the helicopter had finished powering down, which didn't take long, Steve slung his shield over his back and joined his fellow avengers on the ground outside. Bruce had shouldered a backpack which contained a spare change of clothes for him, should he Hulk out, and a first aid kit (which Bruce never went without during missions).

Nick Fury had been vague on details ordering the avengers to go to a set of co-ordinates, which turned out to be the middle of a preservation in Maine, or rather, an isolated cabin in the middle of a preservation in Maine. Tony had begun to get horror movie vibes off the whole situation. The mysterious phone call from a man they'd all thought to be dead, telling them to go to the co-ordinates, which turned out to be a semi creepy cabin in the woods, at least five miles to it's closest neighbour. It was the perfect place to lay a trap, but as they'd flown over the cabin they'd seen nothing out of place. It just looked like an ordinary cabin.

There had only been four heat signatured in the cabin, and Tony was certain that, if the four turned out to be dangerous, Steve would be able to take them out with one arm tied behind his back...and even if there was something special about them ,Steve had Iron man and the Hulk backing him up.

Steve grabbing his back pack, and Tony locked down his helicopter, activating the security protocols that would prevent anyone except for the three Avengers from starting the helicopter up. Tony doubted that there was anyone in the woods that wanted to steal his helicopter, but in these times you couldn't be too certain.

The sun was high in the sky, and Tony was grateful for the fact the suit had a inbuilt cooling system that prevented him from getting hot while he was wearing it. As they hiked as quickly as they could through the dense trees Bruce quickly became sweaty, although Steve seemed to manage easily, his super powered body used to the strenuous activity, the strain of the last few days was beginning to tell. Tony could tell that his friend needed to rest and catch up on some sleep.

It was only a few miles back to the cabin, and they made the distance in good time, breaking through the tree line and staring at the cabin.

"Shall we see if anybody is at home?" he asked, and Bruce snorted in amusement at the comment. Steve, instead of acknowledging Tony's jest, stepped forward, leading the way up to the house, his Shield raised cautiously he stepped up onto the front veranda of the little cabin.

"Alright, Morse code time," Tony offered, having followed Steve up to the cabin, Bruce at his heels. Steve reached out and began tapping on the door frame, repeating the message that Fury had given him, translating it easily into Morse code in his head and tapping out the relevant patterns.

Once he was finished, Steve paused in his tapping, hesitating, before he repeated the entire message another two times.

It wasn't until he'd gotten almost the whole way through the message a third time that the Avengers knew that they'd done the right thing.

AVENGERS

Clint watched his siblings as they played in the blanket fort they had spent the morning and the early part of the afternoon constructing, using tables and chairs and some sticky tape that Leo found to anchor the blankets they had draped over the mattresses that Leo, Jemma and Skye had been sleeping on.

The children of Phil Coulson had been at the cabin now for almost 34 hours now, and Clint was getting very worried. Their father should have come and rescued them by now, but he hadn't come, and neither had Uncle Nick. They hadn't heard from or seen anyone since the night their home had been attacked and Mrs. May had ushered them towards the back door, with the exception of the Hydra agents that had followed them into the preservation and shot Clint.

Clint's arm still hurt. He didn't dare take any painkillers, since he'd been told to not touch any medicine unless there was an adult there. He didn't want to accidently give himself too much and make himself sleepy. He was already struggling to stay awake without having painkillers in his body.

Honestly, Clint was grateful for the pain. It kept him awake and alert, his senses sharpened, his body tensed and ready to spring into action at the slightest indication that he and his younger siblings were under threat.

As time passed though it was getting harder and harder to maintain his state of constant vigilance, both fatigue and exhaustion were taking a heavy toll on his body. Since the morning before their escape, Clint had only slept for just over four hours since the morning before their trek, taken in short, one hour naps when Leo was wide awake so he could keep watch and wake Clint immediately if something happened. After their long night-time hike, during most of which Clint had been carrying Skye on his back, and his injured arm, it hadn't been nearly enough, and Clint knew that he was taking a huge risk.

The thing was, Clint didn't know what other option he had.

Ever since him mother had died, Clint had been responsible for the protection of his siblings, and he took his responsibilities seriously. Nobody could be trusted, except for his dad and Uncle Nick, and Mrs. May. Everyone else, Clint knew, was a threat, and he had to protect his siblings from all threats, even if it meant dying in order to protect them.

Putting yourself in the way of harm to protect others was what Clint knew his dad's job was about. They were SHIELD, the very name of the organisation meant that they were the ones that put themselves between the evil in the world, and the innocents. Now, Clint had to be the Shield between the world, big, scary, and dangerous, and his defenceless siblings.

Looking over the cabin, Clint watched as Leo, Jemma and Skye played in their blanket fort with the soft toys they'd stuffed into their backpacks. It might not be obvious to someone who didn't know them overly well, but Clint could see how scared his siblings were. Skye especially was good at hiding her feelings, despite being only four years old.

It was obvious; to Clint anyway, in the way they sent nervous glances at him periodically, checking that he was still there and that everything was still safe. They didn't whine or ask to be let outside, even thought the weather was good and, had they been at home, they would all be outside. Except for when they went to the toilet, they stayed close, within Clint's direct line of sight, practically playing at Clint's feet. When they slept they slept cuddled up with one another and their soft toys, and when Clint couldn't keep his eyes open anymore and he lay down to sleep, Skye and Jemma would lay down beside him, clutching onto him uncertainly as he slept and Leo kept watch.

Clint frowned, drawn from his thoughts, when he heard the distant sound of an aircraft approaching, low in the sky. He stiffened, listening intently to the noise. There weren't any major flight paths over the preservation, so it was doubtful that it was a commercial flight. The distinctive thumping sound of helicopter rotors identified the type of aircraft it was. Clint swallowed, knowing that it was unlikely that a commercial or private helicopter would be flying over the preservation, especially that low...which left only one possibility.

Military.

"Away from the windows, get under the blankets," he whispered to Leo, Jemma and Skye, who were all looking at the roof fearfully. Obediently, they all jumped into the fort, hiding beneath the pillows and blankets. Clint cringed, knowing that no blanket fort in the world would save them if the helicopter dropped a bomb or a missile on the cabin. A part of him wanted to hide with his siblings, to pretend that they were safe and sound back at home, and that their dad was just down the hallway, or in the kitchen making dinner.

There was a part of Clint that knew he might be overreacting about nothing. It might be his dad or Uncle Nick coming to get them, but he pushed the thought back into the depths of his mind. It was better to be safe and overly cautious than to be overly confident and reckless and end up dead.

The helicopter passed overhead, so low that Clint wondered if it was going to land right on top of them, before it headed north, right for the clearing that was cleared for the very purpose of letting a helicopter of a quinjet land in it. Clint didn't know if he was reassured by the fact that whoever was flying the helicopter knew of the clearings existence or not. Eventually he decided not, because, really, anyone with a pair of eyes, form the close, would be able to see that there was a cleared area of trees in the north. Clint was reasonably sure that, if it was his dad or Uncle Nick, then they wouldn't have flown right over the cabin, knowing that it would have put Clint on high alert and frightened Leo, Jemma and Skye.

"Is it over, Clint?" Jemma asked quietly from where she lay hidden in the blanket fort, her voice muffled by the blankets she and the others had buried themselves in.

"No, I think they're landing, stay where you are." Clint explained gently.

Skye whimpered at the news, "I want Daddy."

"I know, Skye, I know Dad wants' to be with us too," Leo offered reassuringly, and Clint grinned. As much as Leo found it hard to make friends, he was good at reassuring and comforting his siblings, his optimistic and forgiving nature a stark contrast to Clint's own jaded mind. Clint had a hard time being reassuring when things were bad, he tended to think that things were always going to get worse.

It wasn't like he chose to be this way, either. Clint would give anything to be as carefree as his younger siblings, but after losing his mother and then almost losing his dad when the aliens invaded New York, Clint had found it hurt less to be prepared for the worst possible outcome.

It was why, in his head, Clint had resigned himself to the fact that his dad, and Uncle Nick, and Mrs. May, and the other SHIELD agents that he knew and trusted, were all dead, and that their position had somehow been compromised, and at this very moment Hydra agents were coming to take them away to be executed or experimented on.

The cabin was silent except for the muffled sounds of his siblings quietly crying in the blankets, and Clint's own breathing as he slid down from his perch on the back of the couch and crept across the room, avoiding being anywhere near the windows, even though the blinds were still down. Clint reached the corner where they'd put all of their bags, and picked up his bow and quiver, slinging the quiver over his shoulder and shifting his shoulders as the familiar, reassuring weight settled on his back and shoulders.

Shooting with his arm injured was going to be very painful, but Clint didn't have another option. He could shoot with his other hand, but he wasn't nearly as accurate, and if he stood a chance at defending the cabin and protecting his siblings, speed and accuracy would be the key.

Clint stood on the floor in line with the doorway as he heard the distinct sound of footsteps of gravel, like the gravel outside the cabin. The people who had arrived on the helicopter had finally reached the cabin. Clint licked his lips nervously, shifting his feet and lifting his bow. He could hear muffled voiced, but the soundproofing in the walls, installed by Uncle Nick, prevented him from hearing any of it. Clint clearly heard the three sets of heavy footsteps as the stepped up onto the front veranda of the cabin. Immediately Clint discounted the idea of any of the individuals being Agents Hill or Romanoff...their footsteps were far lighter, especially Agent Romanoff's, who was one of the few people who could sneak up on Clint without him knowing.

One step of footsteps stepped closer to the door, and began tapping. Clint fronted, recognising the pattern as Morse code...the pattern his dad had made him memorise and know by rote for this very purpose. As the message was tapped out, Clint found himself translating it in his head.

Audrey Nathan loves her children very much

Clint sniffed as whoever it was finished the message and began tapping it out again. He'd once asked his dad why he'd never changed the tense in the message to past tense. It wasn't like his mom could love them now that she was dead. The look of pain on Clint's father's face as he had tugged his son gently into his lap, holding him in a tight hug, with Clint's face resting over his heart.

"She'll always love you guys, Clint, there is no past tense, not as far as how you mom and I feel about you and the others, even when we're dead, do you understand?"

Clint had nodded, refusing to let the tears that threatened to roll down his face fall. It had been a long time since he'd cried about his mother, and hearing her name being tapped out by somebody brought the feelings and the grief rushing back. Stubbornly, however, Clint pushed the feelings down into his stomach. The knocker, whoever it was, had started tapping out the message for the third time now, and, shaking his head to clear it of thoughts about his mother, Clint stepped forward, biting his lip anxiously, before he flicked the knob on the lock on the door,. Releasing all of the locking mechanisms at once with an audible click.

Clint jumped back, climbing on top of a kitchen stool to gain higher ground and better scope, his bow raised and the bowstring drawn back, despite the agonizing pain in his arm as he pulled on the sensitive skin. Clint didn't need to look at the bandage, which already needed to be changed, to know that the strain of pulling the bowstring back had probably made the wound start to bleed again, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

The knocker, whoever it was, had stopped knocking, and instead had tentatively turned the door handle, pushing to door ajar. Clint saw the hint of a blue, red and white costume, and a circular shield that uncle Nick wouldn't be caught dead wearing, and that his dad would only ever wear on Halloween, before he fired the arrow, grabbing another arrow and notching it to his bow in a single, well practised movement. The arrow that he'd fired bounced harmlessly off the shield, brought up by it's carrier just in time, and clattered to the floor. Clint swallowed nervously as he looked down at the three men who stood in the doorway.

He knew who they were...there was nobody in the civilised world who didn't know who they were. Or rather, the first two anyway...Clint had his suspicions about the third man, considering the company he was keeping, but he was much more recognisable in his other form. Clint made a mental note to not shoot the third man, even thought he was the one who had the least obvious protective gear.

Captain America and Iron man looked down at the arrow lying innocently on the ground, before looking up at Clint, the surprise obvious on Captain America's face. Clint swallowed. He'd shot at Captain America, he was so going to get grounded for that. Clint knew how obsessed his dad was with the man.

Or rather...maybe they weren't who he thought they were. It wouldn't be a stupid idea of Hydra's to dress three of their agents up as Iron man, Captain America and Bruce Banner, and send them into get the Coulson children, thinking that they'd be happier to leave their fortress with the heroes their father worked alongside and idolised

"Kid..do you know who we are?" Captain America asked gently. Clint forced himself to aim the arrow right at the middle of Captain America's face, his right arm trembling with the effort of keeping the bow drawn tightly,

"I know who you're pretending to be...you could by Hydra agents for all I know."

"Okay, we're not Hydra," Iron Man pointed out. Clint rolled his eyes, but kept his bow trained on Captain America. Iron man had a suit of metal, Clint didn't have a chance of hitting him, unless he put up his face plate.

"That would be what a Hydra agent says...it's what they have been saying for the last sixty years." Clint shook his head, wincing as the movement made his vision blur. He blinked until the blurriness cleared, knowing that his exhaustion was catching up with him.

"What's your name, kid?" Captain America asked, trying to keep the situation calm. Clint bit his lip, fighting the urge to glance over his shoulder where his siblings were hiding.

"Clint," he eventually replied, leaving his last name unspoken.

Captain America nodded, pulling his cowl off, "Okay, Clint, what would it take for us to convince you that we're really the Avengers?"

Clint paused, trying to think, although his mind was hazy and making it difficult to focus, and his head was throbbing in pain. The obvious was to get Bruce Banner to shift into the Hulk, but that would put them all in danger, and Clint wasn't about to risk exposing his siblings to getting smashed by the Hulk.

Clint thought back, trying to remember what trivial information his father had told him about the Avengers, that no-one else would know about. No SHIELD agents, just the Avengers themselves and his dad...not even Fury.

"Who told you to come here?" Clint asked, stalling for time.

"Director Fury," Captain America replied, "he gave us the co-ordinates, said to go here, and gave me the message to tap out on the door. He didn't tell us what we'd find out here."

"Although maybe a little heads up about the crazy kid with a bow and arrow would have been good." Iron Man added.

"Where's agent Romanoff, shouldn't she be with you?" Clint asked.

"She's gone to ground somewhere," Captain America replied, not giving much away, obviously not completely trusting Clint either.

"What do you call Agent Phil Coulson?" Clint asked, looking at Iron Man.

"Agent, his name is just Agent" Iron Man replied with a shrug.

"What did Director Fury use to prove to you that Agent Coulson was dead just before the battle for New York?" Clint queried.

"His Captain America trading cards...there was blood on them, Fury told us they were in his pocket." Captain America replied. Clint nodded, that wasn't a particularly well known fact, but he still had a few more questions to ask.

"What's a 0-8-4?"

Captain America frowned, and looked at Iron Man, who shrugged. Behind them, Bruce Banner cringed and shook his head.

"We don't know." Steve admitted. Clint allowed himself a smirk.

"That's good, you're not supposed to. A Hydra agent would probably know that. One last question...On what level of Stark tower is the office of Agent Coulson?

"What's with the Questions about Agent?" Iron Man protested.

"The 73rd," Captain America replied promptly, ignoring his team mate. Clint swallowed, feeling sick, his headache getting worse. He slowly lowered his bow, relaxing the string.

"Why did Director Fury send you?" Clint asked, wincing at how strained his voice was.

"Because, if you hadn't noticed, the worlds gone to hell," Iron man said, flipping his face visor up.

Clint shifted on his spot in the stool, knowing full well how much the world had gone to hell.

"Tony, not in front of the kid," Captain America scolded his teammate, before he stepped closer to Clint.

"Are you going to look after us until Dad comes back?' Clint asked in a soft voice. Captain America nodded, a grim smile on his face.

"Sure, son, of course we will...Who's the rest of us?"

Clint turned and looked over his shoulder, and Captain America followed his line of sight, looking at the blanket fort tucked into the corner.

'It's okay guys, coast is clear...they're the real deal," Clint said, and Leo, Jemma and Skye poked their heads out from under the blankets, clutching their soft toys, their eyes wide at the sight of the heroes that they had been told stories about. Clint smiled when he saw the excitement written across Leo's face when he saw Iron Man, his mouth hanging open.

It was only when he heard Bruce Banner call out that Clint realised that, when he'd tuned, he'd moved so that his injured arm was fully visible to Banner and Iron man.

"Steve...he's bleeding," Banner said sharply, and Captain America turned, looking up at Clint in worry.

"Hey, easy Clint," he said, holding out a hand to steady Clint, whose legs had begun to shake beneath his weight. Clint blinked, swaying as his exhaustion overwhelmed him, now that he knew they were safe, that he could, finally, let his guard down.

"Sorry," he whispered in a voice that Captain America would have struggled to hear, before everything went dark.


	5. Chapter 5

Steve moved quickly the moment he saw Clint's eyes roll in his head, catching the small boy as he dropped from his position on the stool, just before he would have hit his head on the edge of the same stool that he'd been standing on.

"Put him down, Steve, I need to check him over," Bruce said, striding across the floor to where Steve stood. Steve knelt, carefully lowering the motionless child to the ground. Bruce immediately felt for a pulse at the boy's throat, before he checked to see if the boy was breathing. Steve rested Clint's head in his lap, glancing over at Tony, who was holding the other three children back, without much luck. The three had run forward when they'd seen Clint fall, and were now desperately trying to get to the older boy. Steve wondered if they were all siblings, or if some tie other than blood had brought them together.

"His pulse and breathing is fine, I'm going to suggest that it's exhaustion more than anything else, he doesn't have a fever, so I doubt he has an infection. I'll do a blood test when we get back to the tower to make sure though."

Steve nodded and watched as Bruce rolled the sleave of Clint's t-shirt up to expose the bloodied bandage that had been wrapped around his bicep.

"Can any of you tell me what happened?" Bruce asked the younger children gently as he carefully unwrapped the bandage.

"When we were running Clint got shot," The other boy answered, "We've been helping him look after it, Jemma's cleaned it up a couple of times for him, and I hold him still."

"I was going to ask if he needed it cleaned again soon, before he started getting dinner ready," The older of the girls added.

"How long ago did it happen?" Bruce asked, having revealed the wound and beginning to examine it.

"Not last night but the night before." The older boy replied from when he stood, trapped behind Tony.

"Is it infected?" Steve asked, knowing from his experiences in the Second Words War how nasty an infected gunshot wound could get.

Bruce shook his head, "No, it looks pretty good, which one of you is Jemma?"

The older girl timidly stuck up her hand, and Bruce smiled at her, "You've done a great job, sweetheart, it's nice and clean. When we get back to the tower I'll put some stiches in it to stop it from opening up again, but you've kept in beautiful and clean for me."

Jemma shyly smiled half hiding behind the couch, while the younger boy perked up.

"The tower...you mean, the Avengers Tower? We get to go there?"

"You bet kiddo. What's your name?" Tony beamed.

"Leo, well, actually, it's Leopold, but nobody calls me that. Clint's my big brother, and Jemma and Skye are my little sisters."

"Clint, Leo, Jemma and Skye," Steve commented as Bruce cleaned Clint's wound and quickly bandaged it again.

"That's the names, don't wear them out," Skye piped up with a smile on her face. Tony snorted with amusement.

"You sound like you've heard that before," he told Skye, who nodded.

"Clint says it all the time to Mrs. May when she calls us."

"Is Mrs. May going to be at the tower too?" Jemma asked. Steve and Tony exchanged glances.

"Who is Mrs. May?" Steve asked.

"She's the one who looks after us when daddy is away," Leo explained, "She was back at the house when the agents from Hydra came. She was the one that told us to go here."

Steve looked down at Clint's prone form to avoid meeting the gaze of any of the others, the three Avengers all knowing that, in all likelihood, Mrs. May, whoever she was, would be dead.

"Let's go," Tony suggested once Bruce had finished re bandaging Clint's wound. Bruce packed up his first aid kit, and the three younger children wordlessly collected the few things that they'd gotten out of their go bags and shoved them back in, before slinging the bags onto their backs. Leo collected Clint's bow and Quiver, as well as the arrow he had fired, and slung the whole lot over his back, in addition to his own pack, and Tony wordlessly picked up the larger bag that obviously belonged to Clint, slinging it onto his own back.

Steve, for his part, gathered Clint's unconscious body and cradled it in his arms, bridal style, with Clint's head resting on his shoulder. Tony sidled up to Steve and Bruce as the children gathered at the doorway, waiting quietly for permission to go.

"Jarvis has picked up on thirty heat signatures, human heat signatures, about five miles south of where we are now. We need to move," Tony reported in a tense, quiet voice in order to prevent the young children from hearing

Steve tightened his grip on Clint and nodded, before they crossed over to the door, opening it and all stepping out onto the Veranda. Tony pulled the door shut, and they all heard the lock click into place. Tony knelt down and scooped up Skye, while Bruce shyly extended his arms to Jemma, who didn't hesitate before letting him pick her up. Leo tightened his grip on his backpack and Clint's bow and quiver, and stayed close to Tony as they all stepped off the veranda and onto the gravel.

"Last one back to the helicopter is a rotten egg," Tony called, setting off at an run, although it was slow enough for Leo to keep up with. Bruce rolled his eyes at Steve before he set off after Tony, Jemma clinging onto him. Steve turned, looking back at the cabin, before he sighed, tightening his grip on Clint before setting off back towards the helicopter.

AVENGERS 

Steve was buckling Clint into the helicopter when they heard the gunshots echoing through the woods, as well as the banging of grenades. Beside him, Skye screamed, and Jemma clung to Bruce's leg.

"Shh, it's okay, hop in, quick," Tony reassured, buckling in Leo and reaching for Skye. Bruce quickly finished buckling Jemma in, before Steve clambered into the pilot's seat, starting up the engine, glad that Tony had a large helicopter that had enough seats for everyone. Tony sat beside him in the co-pilot's chair, while Bruce sat in the back where he could monitor Clint's condition.

Steve piloted the helicopter as it lifted off the ground and cleared the tree tops, the plume of black smoke rising into the air confirming what he already expected. Hydra had found the cabin, and had destroyed it. Even as the helicopter lifted off Steve could see figures in the trees, clad in black Hydra uniforms, and he quickly steered the helicopter away, gaining height as quickly as they could. Tony cringed when a land to air rocket narrowly missed the helicopter, arcing away and crashing into the trees far below them.

"That was close...too close," Steve commented as he steered the helicopter out of danger and back towards New York.

"I wonder why they're targeting the kids? Did you notice how none of them said their last name? Their dad must be someone important, for Fury to have sent us after them."

Steve nodded, "I'm glad he did, if we were much later they wouldn't have stood a chance, not against that. That Hydra team wasn't focused on taking captives...they wanted the children dead."

Tony looked over his shoulder, where the three younger children had convinced Bruce to tell them a story. They were already entranced by the tale, and Tony shook his head at how innocent they all looked.

"I don't care who their parents are or were, those Hydra bastards aren't going to get anywhere near those kids...not if there's anything I can do about it."

Steve nodded in agreement, before he and Tony fell into a comfortable silence.

AVENGERS

As far as Leo was concerned, Tony Stark was far more interesting than any of the teachers he'd ever had at school. It had been too late in the day to go down to the lab by the time they'd arrived at the Avengers Tower, but that hadn't stopped Tony from sitting on a couch with Leo, Jemma and Skye sitting around him, listening as he told them stories about the kind of antics he got up to when he was their age, telling them about the things he used to build, and all of his current projects. Leo listened to every word Tony said, soaking it all up like a sponge, ideas for inventions spinning around in his head. Beside him, Jemma was grinning from ear to ear, and even Skye looked curious.

Leo, along with his sisters and Tony, had pouted when they'd been told, by Captain America himself, that it was too late in the day to start playing in the lab, but Leo had gotten over it when dinner was served.

Leo didn't mind Clint's cooking, but the cabin hadn't had any power, so there hadn't been a fridge, and they'd only had what was already in the cupboards, and what was kept stored in their bags. Con-incidentally, there hadn't been any fresh fruit or veggies on offer, and Leo, unlike most of his classmates, actually liked eating his vegetables. Meat hadn't been an option either, except for the dried beef jerky, which Leo didn't like to begin with, so the smell of Roast Pork with vegetables made Leo's stomach grumble in anticipation.

After dinner Tony had sat them down on the couch, and put on Frozen for them, leaving them to sit quietly to watch the movie. Leo had gotten out his toy monkey, cuddling it close to his chest and wishing Clint was there. Leo hadn't seen Clint since they'd first arrived at the Tower, when Captain America and Dr. Banner had carried him away so he could get his arm stitched up, and so he could sleep without being disrupted by his younger siblings. Leo understood why they'd been separated, but he still missed his brother, and as great as it was to be surrounded by the same heroes who Leo had grown up hearing stories about, Leo wanted his brother there...or his dad, or somebody else older than him that he knew.

The elevator chimed and Leo turned his head curiously, still clutching his monkey to his chest, wondering who it was coming into the area, Clint's hyper vigilance having rubbed off on Leo during their days of fearful hiding.

Leo's eyes widened when he saw a familiar figure step through the door, and his breath caught in his throat, robbing him of the ability to speak. Thankfully, Jemma and Skye had no such issue.

"Daddy" they screamed in unison, sliding off the couch and running across the living area of the shared level of the Avenger's tower and throwing themselves into their father's waiting arms.

AVENGERS

Leaning wearily against the wall of the elevator that was taking him up to the shared living area the Avengers spent most of his time in, Phil couldn't bring himself to look up at the concerned gaze of his two fellow agents, not wanting to see the sympathy in their eyes.

Phil had planned on picking up his children and Mrs. May from the safe house on his way south to New York, but the heavy black plume of smoke that had been rising from the preservation, right where the cabin had once stood, had changed all those plans. The preservation had been swarming with Hydra Agents, and the cabin was nothing but a smoking ruin.

If the children had been inside, with their caregiver, then they would be long gone, all trace of their existence erased by the heat of the explosion that had ripped the cabin apart.

Phil hadn't said anything since then, although some time had passed. His Agents hadn't tried to initiate conversation with him, knowing that it would be a lost cause.

Phil thought that loosing Audrey had hurt, but even the pain he had felt when he'd learned she had died paled in comparison to now, when he had lost his children. Clint, whom had only just turned 11 years old, and Nick had already been considering offering a position in SHIELD when he finished High School. Leo, just weeks away from his eighth birthday, and had a mind that rivalled Stark's when it came to inventing things, and would doubtlessly go on to invent all kinds of things. Jemma, who had been telling everyone that would listen that she was now five and three quarters years old and already was showing an interest in becoming a doctor or a scientist (or both). Then there was sweet, little Skye, who had better skills as far as technology was concerned than Phil himself, and she was only four years old

And now they were gone, their lives snuffed out in an instant.

The elevator chimed and the doors opened, and Phil dejectedly stepped out, his agents following loyally behind him, barely glancing up at Pepper, Tony and Steve, who were all at the dining room table. Bruce was probably in his lab working on some theory, and Phil didn't doubt that Natasha had gone to ground somewhere, biding her time and waiting for the shit storm to calm down before she stealthily made her way back to New York. Nothing that he saw in that brief glance up at the occupants of the room surprised him

Nothing he saw in that momentary glance could have ever prepared Phil for the twin screams of "Daddy!" that he heard mere seconds later, causing him to lift his head to quickly his neck throbbed. His eyes widened in surprise as he took in Skye and Jemma, racing across the marble floors towards him, identical looks of pure happiness on their faces. Phil fell to his knees, his arms outstretched as Leo started to run towards him as well, his eyes welling with tears.

Phil's own eyes were misting over when Jemma and Skye crashed into him, latching on, and burying their faces in his suit jacket. Phil's shoulder's shook as he sobbed in relief as Leo jumped onto him, almost crushing his younger sisters. 

"You're safe...you're safe...oh thank God...I thought...oh God." Phil shook his head and clutched his three youngest children to his chest, relief flooding through his chest. Phil lost control then, breaking down into tears as he clung to his children as they clung onto him, sobbing, oblivious to Tony, Steve, Pepper, and Phil's two loyal agents watching the reunion in a stunned silence.

"Where's Clint, Leo?" Phil asked once he found himself capable of speaking again. Phil had noticed his eldest son's absence, and he'd really hoped that Clint was just using the bathroom or something, but as time passed, that seemed more and more unlikely.

"He...he's sleeping," Leo said, his voice still too choked up to make speaking easy. Beseechingly, Phil looked up at the assembled Avengers, searching for answers.

"Where is my son?"

"He'll be okay, Agent. He got clipped by a Hydra Agent when they escaped the house, and I don't think he's slept since then, but Banner thinks he'll be fine. I can take you to him, if you want." Tony explained, "And by the way, since when did you have kids?"

"Since just under twelve years ago, Tony. I don't share every detail of my life with you."

Steve and Pepper both snorted at Phil's rebuttal, although Phil knew that, as a whole, the Avengers would be put out that the majority of them didn't know about such a significant part of Phil's life. Natasha, of course, was the exception.

"How did you know where to find them?" Phil asked, his knees beginning to protest their position on the floor, but the rest of him unwilling to move away from his children.

"Fury," Steve offered, "he told us the co-ordinates for the cabin, and the Morse code message to tap out on the door, but not what we'd find inside."

"I don't think Steve was expecting to almost get shot in the face by an arrow the moment he stepped over the threshold though," Tony added. Phil's mouth fell open.

"Clint shot at you?"

"I don't hold it against him, after what they've all gone through," Steve shrugged, "he didn't hit me anyway, it just bounced off the shield."

Phil nodded, letting out a sigh as he struggled to his feet, "Tony, can you show me where Clint is; I want to check on him."

"Can we come, dad, we haven't seen Clint since we got here?" Skye asked.

"Which hasn't been that long, really," Jemma elaborated.

"A few hours, at least." Leo confirmed.

"Sure, as long as you're quiet," Phil nodded, taking Skye and Leo's hands in his own, while Jemma latched onto Leo's spare hand.

"Steve, are you okay if I leave Agents May and Triplett here. They're not Hydra."

Steve nodded, although the look he shot at the two agents was mistrustful. Phil, however, knew that after everything had happened it was the best he could hope for.

Tony went back into the elevator, and Phil and his younger children followed him, watching as Tony his the button for the next floor up, the same level that Phil himself had a bedroom on for the nights that he stayed late at the tower for whatever reason. It was also the same level that Bruce had his bedroom on, which made sense. If Clint was injured then Bruce would want to be close in case Clint's condition deteriorated suddenly.

Tony led the way down a corridor, past Phil's room, and Bruce's, to the end of the corridor, where he opened a door. Tony led the way inside, and Phil followed, taking in the room, the lights dimmed right down, and the blinds shut against the lights of New York City at night.

Clint lay on his back on the large, king sized bed, looking impossibly small and young in the large bed. Bruce sat in a chair at Clint's bedside, a book in his hands that he had obviously been reading up until the others had arrived. Phil noticed with a smile that somebody, probably Steve or Pepper, had put Clint's emergency bag, along with the young boy's bow and quiver within sight of the bed.

"Agent Coulson," Bruce greeted, taking in the sight of Phil, with Leo, Jemma, and Skye clinging onto him.

"Dr. Banner, I see you've met my children."

"Your...that would explain why Fury sent us to go and get them," Bruce smiled. Phil nodded, but his gaze was fixed on his sleeping son.

"I've stitched up his arm, it didn't take many stiches, and it was healing okay without them already, but I thought it would be a good idea. It wasn't too deep, he was lucky, it could have been a lot worse. I'm more concerned about the fact he obviously hasn't been sleeping much."

"Clint didn't sleep much, he only slept when we were all awake, and even then it wasn't for very long," Leo meekly told them, "I tried to tell him that he needed to sleep, but he told me that he had to keep watch and protect us."

"It's okay, Leo, you know how he gets when he thinks you're in danger. You've done a great job."

"I helped keep his sore nice and clean," Jemma told Phil, "Clint made Leo hold him still when I cleaned it, but he didn't move much, and he didn't cry. If it was me I would have cried a lot. I put bandages on it too."

"Did you?" Phil asked, picking Jemma up so he could kiss the top of her head.

"She certainly did, did a very good job of it too. Best first aid by a kid I've ever seen," Bruce nodded.

"Good girl," Phil beamed, kissing Jemma again before he set her down and approached Clint's bed. He was taken back four years ago, in the aftermath of the accident that claimed Audrey's life. Clint had looked just as small and helpless back then, although it was obvious that he wasn't so seriously injured this time around. Phil watched even rise and fall of Clint's chest, reassured by the evidence that Clint was alive, just like his siblings.

Phil was oblivious to the looks that Tony and Bruce exchanged as Bruce rose out of his seat and, carrying his book in his hands, headed for the door. Tony too discretely made his escape, for once knowing when his presence was not required or wanted. This moment was strictly for Phil and his children.

Bruce and Tony's departure went unnoticed by Phil, who slowly approached Clint's bed, sitting down in Bruce's vacated chair as he, once again, took Clint's pale hand in his own. Phil studied Clint, the deep shadows, almost like bruises under his eyes, and the pale skin on the rest of his face. They were telltale signs that Clint had pushed himself to the utmost limit over the last few days.

"Daddy, can we lay down with Clint?" Skye asked, and Phil nodded, lifting his youngest daughter onto the bed, Jemma and Leo climbing up on their own. It was telling to Phil how exhausted Clint was from the way that his siblings getting on the bed with him, causing the mattress to dip slightly, didn't wake Clint up. Clint had always been a light sleeper, ever since he'd been a baby, but now he didn't move as his siblings sat on the bed beside him. Reaching out, Phil began to gently comb his fingers through Clint's hair, brushing it back off his face.

"We missed you, daddy," Leo told him with a contended smile on his face, "I'm glad you're okay."

Phil looked at Leo, ruffling his younger son's hair affectionately, "I missed you guys too; I was so worried that something bad had happened to you. You guys are the most important thing in my life, you know that, right?"

Jemma and Leo both nodded, smiling tiredly up at Phil, while Skye jumped off the bed and onto Phil.

"Of course we do, Daddy. You love us even more than you love Captain America and the other Avengers."

"Darn right...and don't you let Stark forget it, you guys are my favourite kids." Phil smiled, kissing Skye's forehead and pulling her into a hug. Skye snuggled comfortably against his chest, while Jemma and Leo leaned against the headboard beside Clint's head. They sat in a comfortable silence for a bit, enjoying simply being together for awhile.

Eventually there was a soft knock on the door, and Steve poked his head into the room, setting Leo, Jemma and Skye's backpacks beside Clint's.

"How is he?" Steve asked in a soft voice.

Phil nodded at his old hero, a smile on his face, "he's okay, just tired I think."

"We thought you might want them all together tonight, so I brought down their bags," Steve trailed off awkwardly, and Phil nodded in thanks.

"I appreciate it. I'll see you in the morning?"

"Of course, Tony and Bruce said that if you need anything or Clint gets worse during the night, to use Jarvis to wake us up." Steve smiled. Phil nodded again.

"I will, have a good sleep, and thanks, for everything."

"No worries, Sir," Steve nodded, before ducking out of the room, closing the door behind him.

"Go get ready for bed, there should be a bathroom through there." Phil instructed, and Leo, Jemma and Skye all rushed to get changed into their pyjamas, before they brushed their teeth and took turns going to the toilet. Phil knew he probably should make sure they had a bath, but he was tired and it could wait until the morning when Clint was awake.

Now ready for bed, Jemma and Leo curled up under the covers on both sides of Clint, being obviously careful of Clint's injured arm. Phil tucked them in, kissing the tops of their heads as they cuddled their favourite soft toys to their chests. Skye brought her blanket out of her backpack, and Phil wrapped her in it securely, before she snuggled into his chest, obviously content to fall asleep in his arms, just like she had done when she was a baby.

"Daddy?" Jemma asked quietly, "If Tony and Bruce say it's okay, are we still going to be allowed to go and see their lab in the morning?"

Phil laughed, kissing the top of Skye's head, "As long as they say it's okay and they promise to not do anything too dangerous, I don't see why not," he told the children, while at the same time cringing at the prospect of getting his middle two children out of the lab.

"Yay," Leo whispered where he lay, "I wonder if we'll be allowed to see Tony's Iron man Suit."

"I wonder if we'll be able to see some of the arc reactor technology he's been building." Jemma added

Phil rolled his eyes as he listened to Leo and Jemma whisper excitedly to one another, the pauses between sentences getting longer and longer as they slowly fell asleep, until the room was quiet except for the sound of deep even breathing. Skye was sound asleep in Phil's arms, and Jemma and Leo were curled around their respective stuffed toys and Clint. They were all safe, and would all be okay after their ordeal. Phil himself yawned, and he decided that his children seemed to have a good idea.

Tilting his head back, Phil closed his eyes and let the sound of his children breathing lull him to sleep.


End file.
